Yes, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, that is. The character in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series whom we all wish never died.
Same pronunciation, different spelling.
Dumbledoor. BINGO! Actually that was what I meant.
I reached home and saw that she was quiet. I twisted, swayed her body to the left and to the right but she didn’t budge. I vented my frustration and slapped her right in the face. She stayed still. I danced in front of her hoping that similar significance delivered by rain dance would come forth. No reaction. Alright, I gave up despite remembering Jason Mraz’s “I Won’t Give Up”.
This is getting nowhere. I shall stop before somebody reports me for domestic violence and am banned from posting in WordPress forever.
But truth be told, I did abuse her. The door. Dumb le door a.k.a. my dumb door.
If you wonder why I used the pronoun “she” instead of “he” or “it” for door, the reason is die Tür. That is the German word for door and die indicates the female gender.
It’s rather epic to publicize online that you got locked outside your own room despite having the key in your hand. More like… embarrassed. Nevertheless, this story is so worth a million dollar to tell that in the future you could look back and browse your blog archive and share with your grandchildren about how seemingly persistent you were. Besides, writing is one way to divert your anger, you know.